


Polar Night

by JustGettingBy



Series: Solstice Duology [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGettingBy/pseuds/JustGettingBy
Summary: Around the Solstice in the Southern Water Tribe, they scarcely see the sun for weeks on end.For Zuko, this takes a toll on his firebending.But Sokka’s there to keep him warm.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Solstice Duology [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073726
Comments: 20
Kudos: 215





	Polar Night

Sokka comes back from his ice fishing trip to find Zuko already asleep in their bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and furs. Zuko being asleep before him is nothing unusual—Sokka swears his fiancé keeps the same sleep schedule as Bumi. And, really, it doesn’t matter if he’s talking about Bumi the one-hundred-and-twenty year old king or Bumi the six month old baby. 

But what is unusual is that when Sokka slips under the covers and wraps his arms around Zuko, Zuko is  _ cold.  _

Sokka’s palms rest on pale stomach; his fingers press against Zuko’s ribs. 

The normal lick of fire isn’t there.

Even for a non-firebender, his temperature is off. But Zuko? Sokka could barely stand the peels of heat he radiated in spring in the Northern Earth Kingdom. When they went back to the Fire Nation come summer, Sokka was certain he’d melt. Or boil. Or roast. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Zuko had whispered to him. “Maybe this is all my ploy to get you to sleep naked.” 

Sokka shuddered as Zuko’s lips pressed against his ear. “If it is a strategy, it’s a bad one. I can’t fuck you if my dick wilts.”

“Hmm, maybe not. But that doesn’t stop me from fucking you.”

Sokka remembers only the heat that followed. Zuko blazed and Sokka burned with him and he thought that he’d gladly burn every day of his life, if that was what burning was. 

After, he welcomed the cool bath that he floated in for the better part of an hour. He wiped the sweat from his neck and underarms and held his face underwater until his heart beat quit its race. 

And, when he dried and slipped on a robe and went to bed, he burned all over again. 

It went on like that for months. 

Over time, Sokka got used to it. Who would’ve thought? A Southern boy, loving heat?

And he might’ve learned to love the blistering sun and sticky air and blazing pavement of the Fire Nation, but he’s still a southerner at heart. He knows cold. 

And he knows Zuko isn’t alright. 

Gently, he places his hand on Zuko’s shoulder and rocks him awake. “Hey, babe.”

It takes Zuko much too long to crack his eyes open. “Hey,” he mumbles back before shutting his eyes and pulling up a blanket and rolling over. 

A Katara-like voice in his head reminds him of an adage for survival. Don’t let the cold sleep. If someone comes in off the ice, they have to be kept conscious and lucid. 

Zuko might not have come in off the ice, or have been stuck in a blizzard, but he’s still cold. Sokka reasons the same logos must apply. 

“You’re gonna hate me for this,” he says as he once again shakes his shoulder, “but I’m keeping you awake.” 

“Mmm.” Zuko brushes him off. His eyelids flicker, but he doesn’t wake. 

“I’m sorry if you hate me for this,” Sokka whisper and, with one swift movement, he peels back all the blankets on the bed. The blue knits and the furs fall into a heap at the end of the oak bed frame. 

And the action does it’s job—Zuko lifts his head. “Hey!” He shivers, his whole body rolling, and Sokka realizes how small he looks. His shoulders hunch forward and he draws into himself and the layers of warm nightclothes swallow him up. “I was using those.”

“I know.” Sokka cups his head in his hands and plants a kiss on his forehead. “But you’re so  _ cold.  _ And, uh, you’re not supposed to let people sleep like that.”

Zuko shrugs and wiggles out of Sokka’s grip. He grabs a fistful of the closest blanket and drags it up, back over his body. “I’m fine.”

“Zuko. You’re clearly not okay.”

It’s true—his skin is several shades paler than normal, so translucent that the blue of his veins glows. A dark bag hangs under his eye. Even his lips aren’t their normal colour; they’re also drained of their usual rose flush. 

He looks at Sokka earnestly, lowers himself back to lying down, and sighs. “I’m being overdramatic.” 

Sokka sinks down next to him. He lifts his hand and skims his fingers over Zuko’s cheekbone. “Since when have you cared about that before?”

That elicits the smallest of laughs. Zuko nestles forward, toward Sokka. His hands are ice, but Sokka holds them to his chest, as if the best from his heart could pump warmth into Zuko. 

“I think it’s the sun,” Zuko says after a moment. “Or the lack of.”

“What?” This time of year, around the solstice, the South hardly saw sunlight. Rather than true days, with clear sunrises and sunsets, the most they got was a few hours of murky dawn-dusk as the sun skimmed the horizon before disappearing back below that far off line. 

It turned the world beautiful, in Sokka’s opinion. The sky would flush pink and orange and red and stay that way for hours. 

At night—true night—the world became black beyond black. In the summer, even in the small morning hours, the world never looked that way. Now, if he went outside, he’d see the pure darkness. 

He could look up and see the smattering of stars that painted the sky. There’d be the familiar strong pinpricks of light, of course. But beyond that? The sky held more stars in the dome than he could believe; points of light melted together to form gauzy clouds of stardust. 

Sometimes, the world would glow as the spirits danced. Electric greens and ice blues would curl across the sky in ribbons, like a moving snake. The rare deep purple or streak of red would join in on the nights the spirits were really putting on shows. 

What was there not to love about the lack of sun?

“Sokka.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s nothing against you, or the south, or anything like that. It’s just—I just think that it’s not good for my fire bending. The lack of sun… it’s like my inner flame has no fuel.”

At that, Sokka stiffens. “What? Why didn’t you say something!” They’ve been here for three full weeks now; they aren’t going back to the Fire Nation for another two. 

“I thought I was just tired, at first. Or that maybe I had a cold, but it’s so much more than that. It’s like the warmth in my core just—“ he snaps— “snuffed out. 

“I mean, look,” Zuko says and holds his palm flat to the air. Sokka leans back, expecting a column of flame to curl into the air.   


But the fire Zuko pulls up is scarcely a candle light, weakly licking the air. It doesn’t throw off any heat before it puffs out into a ribbon of smoke. 

“So when my fire started doing that, when I started to piece together the real problem, I just thought I’d tough it out.”

Sokka clicks his tongue. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Fine.” Sokka leans in and rests his forehead against Zuko’s. Close as they are, he can hear his heartbeat. “You’re the life of me, you know.”

Zuko only hums in response—he’s falling asleep again.

“Oh no you don’t.” Sokka sits up. His mind races, sorting out the best plan. He can’t know for sure if it’ll work, but it’s worth a shot.

He shakes Zuko’s flank. “Come on, I have an idea.”

“Sokka…”

“We can try this or I can get Katara to come in and figure out how to fix you up. Your choice.”

Zuko sits up, his arms folded over his chest like a grump toddler. His disheveled hair adds to the look. 

“We need to warm you up,” Sokka says plainly. “And the best way to do that is by sharing body heat.” 

Zuko eyes him, skeptic. 

“It’s a real thing.” It  _ is.  _

“Alright. I feel so miserable I’m willing to try anything.”

Sokka shucks off his robe and pulls his pants down from his hip bones.

“Come on, then,” he holds out his hand for Zuko to take. “Let’s sit by the fire. Bring the blanket.”

Zuko pulls the blanket around himself like a cape and, with his free hand, wraps it around Sokka’s. The two of them shuffle across Sokka’s room and settle on the soft fur in front of the low fire. 

The embers glow and the warm light fills Zuko’s eyes. The familiar scent of wood and smoke feels Sokka’s nose and as he lifts up the blanket and fits himself into Zuko’s side like a puzzle, he realizes there’s nothing in this world or the next he’d trade this for. He pulls the blanket closed—around both their shoulders, it’s stretched to the limits, but it does it’s job and catches the heat. 

Zuko shakes. He’s still cool against Sokka’s bare skin. And still dressed. 

“This feels good,” Zuko mumbles, his voice still groggy. “And, after this, if you think I still shouldn’t go to sleep… Well, I can think of something else that’ll keep us both awake.”

Just relax, babe.” Sokka's head sinks to Zuko’s shoulder. He clasps Zuko’s hand and runs his thumb over the delicate bones of his fingers. “We’ve got all the time we need.”

  
  



End file.
